


Warmth

by BecauseSin



Series: Stingue Fall Equinox 2020 [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseSin/pseuds/BecauseSin
Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe
Series: Stingue Fall Equinox 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933501
Kudos: 7
Collections: Fyeahstingue Collection





	Warmth

Snow made his way down the sky with slow, peaceful steps, one by one until it reached the ground, covering it with a white blanket. Winter was sometimes pretty, especially when there was no rush to leave the home. 

After so many years of fights, blood and wounds, and even with a strong will, a wish for adventure, resting was as much for the soul as it was for the body. And the last war had been painful, in ways nothing was ever before. Not as oppressive as his teenage years had been, but still hard to deal with, the aftermath still reaching for him with long and cold fingers. There were some nights when he woke up feeling the taste of blood on his lips, his friends and love dead in ten thousands different ways. There were nights when he woke up because Rogue was the one trashing on his sleep, similar and different scenes playing on his dreams.

It got better with time, Sting knew that, but knowing didn’t always help. 

Resting usually did. Staying in bed, surrounded by his loved ones, feeling them close after everything and against everything was a balm on his heart. 

His arms, his whole body, had a lot of scars, some older, some new. Silvery lines or raised pink, some hurting and some not anymore. A crisscrossed map on his skin, one with many stories behind, so many that he wasn’t sure he remembered all of them. Rogue probably knew them, after tracing them many times, in so many contexts.

Sting at least could, with the ones his husband had.

Maybe it was a little morbid, all things in mind, but he enjoyed exploring them. It was funny on the good days and reassuring on the bad ones. It was calming after the nightmares. 

Winter was sometimes pretty but it also had many dark, cold memories of bloody snow and aching limbs. It was easy for phantom pains to sneak in at those days if they let them in. And that’s why they didn’t.

It was a season for early nights and late mornings, fuzzy blankets and hot coffee. It was a time for whispered secrets and kind words, ‘I love you’s that came from the heart and muscle memory, deeply ingrained in their whole beings. 

Winter was for peace and warm and that’s why when Sting woke up, his nose freezing and his breath showing as a cloud in front his eyes, he didn’t stand up. Instead, he tugged at the blankets and buried his face on Rogue’s chest, who dragged him closer not even waking up. This was his life now, and he was going to enjoy every second.


End file.
